


we cannot fade into shadow when we are greater than the night

by agentx13



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Kidnapping, Vampire Hunter, Vampire Queen - Freeform, past Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, sharon carter month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28239660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: Sharon Carter serves as her vampire coven's queen. One night, a vampire hunter is captured as he breaks into her sanctum. It seems the matter will be over quickly enough, but he wants more from her than death.
Relationships: Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: Sharon Carter Month





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was essentially inspired by a dress. [This one!](https://i.postimg.cc/RZt2B6wb/Eh-GOi-Hk-U8-AEUs-8.jpg)
> 
> We're currently picking the prompts for next year's SCM. You can vote for your faves [here.](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1goHBjj2uGHsi5JVNTwyxcFecFHwsTkSPIbtbZKe7eQ0/edit)
> 
> Thank you for clicking on the fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Sharon raised an eyebrow at the man before her, held in place by her guards. He was bearded and filthy, covered in sweat and dirt. His blue eyes were angry, the set of his wide mouth stubborn. Her eyes slowly traced his torn shirt and stained jeans. His boots were well-used. He looked, she thought with amusement, like a lumberjack who was having a very bad day indeed.

Of course, no lumberjack would be so deep in the city. No lumberjack would have attempted to creep into her sanctum with a bag full of weaponry designed to kill her kind.

She wondered dimly what he thought of her. With that in mind, she took care to look even more bored than usual as she watched him. Her hair was perfectly curled; her black, satin dress with its high collar and long, draping sleeves was immaculate. She lazed on her throne, her face propped up by a careless finger.

Being the vampire queen was as much about show as substance, really. And even though the audience tonight was a thin one, barely fifty people, she must perform.

“Did you come all this way to kill little old me?” she asked.

Her voice, pleasant and melodic, took him by surprise. He stopped fighting against Bucky and Sam. Then he remembered where he was and struggled against them all the more.

She sighed. “Honestly. What were you expecting to find?”

He spat on the floor.

Sharon felt a surge of anger that she barely suppressed. Her voice, when she spoke, was cold. “You took his weapons?”

“Yes. And though we’re sure there are no others, we’ve increased the guard,” Sam said.

Sharon nodded. “Take him to my quarters. I’ll be along in good time.”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other wordlessly, then hauled the man away.

Sharon sat on her throne, seething. Spitting on her floor was such a small gesture, she reasoned. And he was only a mortal. Likely young. Certainly foolish. It wasn’t the first time someone had disrespected her, certainly not a mortal. But it was the first time in such a long time…

She leaned back. Mortals never understood.

She forced a smile for the people of the court. “Mortals,” she said lightly with a hint of a shrug as if to say “what can one do?” A murmuring a quiet laughter roved throughout the room. “Have we other entertainment tonight?”

They did. A biker gang whose members boasted of hurting women and children and people with skin of a different color. They were escorted in, ready for a fight, ready to destroy the evil vampires. They really had no idea what they were in for.

“Maim first,” Sharon ordered, getting to her feet. “Don’t be too greedy with their blood. We don’t want them to die too quickly, do we?”

* * *

Her black dress had dark, wet patches from their blood as she walked steadily to her chambers. She didn’t look at the man, chained to the wall as Sam and Bucky stood guard nearby. Instead, she slowly and methodically removed her jewelry. Her dress. The pins that kept her hair in place.

She’d known Sam and Bucky both long enough trust them to see her like this. She’d met them before she had such a noble role to play. God willing, she would know them long after.

Bucky handed her a nightshirt, a soft cotton deal with a cartoon ghost holding a glass of chardonnay that read “GHOSTEST WITH THE MOSTEST.”

She spared the man a quick glance as she pulled it over her head. He looked perplexed. Good. “Any identification?”

Sam handed over the man’s wallet.

“Steven Grant Rogers.” Her eyes ran over the height, weight, and other details before she handed it back to Sam. “Send one of the aides to make sure the address is real. You two go partake before the food’s all gone.”

The two nodded and left, Bucky picking up her sullied dress on his way out.

“I have friends,” the man growled.

Sharon studied the chains at his wrists and ankles. His pockets were pulled out, his sleeves pulled up to his shoulders. “Don’t we all.” She sat on the cushioned bench at her vanity and waved a hand to her room, painted in soft whites and pastels. The bed was large, with thick, soft covers and plump pillows. “You were expecting a coffin, weren’t you?” She turned to the mirror, seemingly ignoring him as she brushed out her hair. “Likely not expecting the mirror, either, come to think of it.” She grinned. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you seem rather new to vampire hunting. I don’t think it was the best career choice for you, Steven.”

He tugged at one of the chains.

“You won’t pull it from the wall, if that’s what you’re thinking. Those can hold stronger beings than mortals.”

“You like keeping such beings chained up in your bedroom?”

“On occasion. If they visit us so late there’s no time to stash them someplace worse.” She stood and drifted closer to him. His eyes were too knowing, as if he didn’t think himself a mere mortal. Hmm. She reached out and trailed a finger down his jaw, then his neck. His pulse jumped underneath her touch, and she smiled. “No, no. I’ve had my fill for the night.”

“Who did you kill?” he demanded, his glare intense.

She smiled brightly. She was fond of intensity. “Rapists and abusers, et cetera.”

“If you’re trying to make murdering people sound noble, it won’t work.”

She was still running her finger along his skin. She could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, feel the hairs of his arm. She ran her fingers down his sides. Despite himself, he shivered.

“What are you doing?”

“Investigating,” she said absently. “We must feed or perish. You realize this, correct?”

“You kill innocents.” It lacked the venom of his earlier statements. His breath had gone awry.

“I assure you, there’s no such thing as an innocent.”

“Children.”

Sharon’s eyes flashed. “We do not kill children. No vampire does. It is… unwise for our continued survival.” She looked up at him. They were close enough that she could bite him. It would hurt, but he might enjoy it.

He seemed to have trouble getting his tongue to work.

She smiled again. She had that effect on people. It was part of how she’d become the queen of her coven. “You won’t be one of our victims,” she assured him.

He looked confused.

“I can’t blame you for believing the stories about us,” she said, moving away. “There are… factions of your people who want us gone. They tell you propaganda as children and you believe it. But you are not so low a creature that we must put you out of your misery.”

“Like the people you killed tonight?”

“Rabid. Best to put such creatures down before they infect the rest.”

He didn’t seem worried enough for her liking. She tested the chains with her strength; they held.

“You had the misfortune of attacking too late for us to let you go tonight. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll be delivered out of town, and when you find your way back, we’ll be gone. No other harm will come to you.” She moved away and slid beneath the covers of her bed. The sun would rise shortly; she could feel it lapping at her consciousness like the incoming tide. “You’ll be safe until then. Uncomfortable, yes, but safe.”

Her duties done for the evening, she curled up and closed her eyes.

* * *

She woke on something hard. Confused, she shifted.

And heard the unmistakable sound of chains.

She sat up in a flash, only getting so far before the chains around her pulled her back down. Not just chains, but chain made of a metal mixed with silver. Did he realize the impact silver had on her strength? She hoped not.

“Not all the stories about you are fake,” the man said. “You sleep like the dead during the day.”

She looked at him in disbelief, then at the area behind him. There was a tiny bed, little more than a cot, low to the ground. The floor was made of dirt, packed down by age. She was chained to a heavy iron stove. The most offensive thing was the poster on the wall, a kitten clinging to a tree branch beneath bubble letters spelling out HANG IN THERE.

“I think,” the man said, “you thought I was a common vampire hunter.”

She didn’t move. She would get out of this. She would rend him limb from limb and feast on his marrow.

“I’m actually part of one of those factions you mentioned. I unlearned the propaganda. So I won’t spritz you with holy water. I can only imagine how that might muss your hair.”

Was he _mocking_ her?

“Where are my people?” Her voice was so cold even she was impressed.

He shrugged. “Looking for you, probably. I didn’t kill any, if that’s what you’re wondering. They won’t find you.”

She appraised him again. He was still dressed like a lumberjack. But this time, he looked like a more put-together lumberjack. “Why did you capture me?”

“You’re going to help me with something. If you do, I’ll…” His lips twisted in something resembling a smile. “Wait until morning and take you to a safe place far from here. By the time you find your way back, I’ll be long gone. You’ll be safe until then. Uncomfortable, but safe.”

Her eyes narrowed. She did not like having her words thrown back in her face.

“If you don’t,” he said, as if she had asked, “I’ll kill you. And all the people you’ve turned will die.”

“You have stated your conditions, but not your purpose.”

He moved closer.

The temptation was too strong; she lashed out. The chains held her back and inch from his face.

He gave a tired smile, as if he had anticipated that. “You’re going to save my mother.”

* * *

He’d left after that, climbing up a ladder and leaving Sharon on the floor. Seconds later, the lights went out, and she was left in such darkness that even her eyes had difficulty adjusting.

Being asked to save someone was unusual, to say the least. He likely wanted her to turn his mother, she reasoned. Mortals were foolish that way.

Alone, with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her time, she turned an endless series of questions over and over in her head. How had he prevented her coven from tracking her? Had he been successful? What faction did he work with? Could she turn him to her advantage? How long would this take? How long would her last meal tide her over before she became one of those beasts, half-crazed with bloodlust?

He didn’t return before daybreak, and she fell again into a deep sleep.

* * *

When she woke, she was in a room with the same dimensions as before, but with windows, a larger kitchen, and a more comfortable bed.

There was a woman on the bed, and it wasn’t Sharon.

She lifted her hands to rub a crick in her neck.

He stood at the window, watching the evening sky deepen to black. He turned at the sound of the chains. “I didn’t think you’d be up so soon.”

“A benefit of old age,” she said, not entirely joking.

He crossed the room in a few steps and used the chains to haul her to her feet. Sharon felt a faint dizziness as he did so; her last meal wouldn’t last much longer. He dragged her to the bed. “Heal her.”

“What?”

He glowered at her. “I didn’t take you because you’re a vampire queen. I took you because you’re a healer.”

She blinked at him. “Who told you that?” She had thought only vampires knew about her humbler beginnings, and even then, not many.

He didn’t answer, only glared at pointed at the woman. “Heal her,” he repeated. “Or die.”

Sharon looked at the woman. It had been well over a hundred years since she’d practiced any sort of medicine. Perhaps two hundred. Perhaps more. The decades and centuries blurred together after a while.

This woman wouldn’t see another decade. Sharon hadn’t practiced medicine in a long time, but her nose was sharper now than it had been when she’d been a mortal. She could smell the death seeping from the woman’s pores.

Nonetheless, partly for show and partly out of curiosity, she examined the woman, the clinking of her chains the only sound. The woman was frail, too tired even to open her eyes or speak. Part of this woman had already died. The rest was simply moving more slowly.

“The cancer has spread too far,” Sharon said quietly. “Your mother cannot be saved.”

His eyes flashed. “No.”

She tried to look apologetic. “Steven…”

“Don’t. Don’t say my name like you know me.”

She took a breath and tried not to look as regally affronted as she felt. “How long has she had cancer, that you’re aware?”

He swallowed. “A couple years. It- Can you turn her?”

She’d known that was coming. “It would preserve the cancer, too.” Sharon sat on the side of the bed and studied the woman’s face. She could see the resemblance to Steven there, though the woman’s features were worn and faded. “She would be like this until a hunter or another vampire put her out of her misery. The best I can do is ease her suffering. But trying to find a cure for her and prolonging her torment…” Her voice softened. She tried not to think about the woman’s fluttering pulse. “It would be cruel.”

“ _No._ ”

Sharon would have been content to let him have his temper tantrum, but evidently, he wasn’t the sort to throw his tantrums with an audience. He stormed partway to the door, stopped, and turned around, grabbing her chains and dragging her to a trapdoor in the floor. She fought, ignoring the rising dizziness and vowing to feed from him, but then he pressed something to her arm that made her screech in agony.

“Silver coated in hawthorn oil,” he said. If she weren’t so busy shaking, she’d be impressed by how cold his voice was. “And I have more tucked away in case you try to escape.”

He threw her down into the darkness.

* * *

He returned soon enough. “What does she need? To ease the suffering.”

She hadn’t moved from the base of the ladder. The pain had eased, but she knew not to waste any energy. Silver and hawthorn were a dangerous mix. She rattled off the names of some plants, most of them slurred, and then she was once again left in darkness.

* * *

When next she woke, she was once again above ground. Her head lolled. He was by his mother’s bed this time, smoothing her brow. His eyes were kind and gentle and desperate.

She could sense his blood from across the room.

Either she’d moved, or he could sense something about her, too. His eyes flicked toward her, and he got to his feet. “Heal her.”

“I can’t.”

“ _Heal her._ ”

She glared at him with what little energy she had. “I can’t. You’re the one who used the damn silver. And hawthorn oil? That was beastly.”

He walked over, more dangerous than a hungry tiger. “You’re a _vampire._ ”

“And of the two of us, which has engaged in kidnapping and torture?”

He glared down at her, his face softening.

Oh, Christ. Not pity. She couldn’t possibly look _that_ bad.

“You probably want blood.”

“If you insist,” she said with some of her former careless frivolity.

He shoved his wrist in her lips. “If you even try to drain me, I’ll-”

The words were lost to her. Close to a food source, weak as she was, she couldn’t help herself. She’d have been ashamed if she hadn’t been so busy sinking her teeth into his skin. Normally, she liked to savor it, but she was too hungry now, too desperate.

Done, she released him, panting against his skin and licking the wounds clean.

As if realizing he was free, he wrenched his hand away. He glared at her, but she felt composed again. Confident.

After a moment, he studied his wrist. “It’s healing.”

“We don’t actually need much blood, either. In fact, we tend to need so little that most of our hosts are willing. And help us more than once.”

“So long as you turn them into vampires,” he said acerbically.

“I think they’re more intrigued behind a peek behind the curtain. The sense that there are things out there they can’t comprehend, frightening things that won’t hurt them but will still make them feel privileged somehow.”

“You really think they’d let you drain them of blood for that?”

“People have sacrificed themselves for less.” She held up her bound wrists. “Do you want to manhandle me again, or may I walk of my own accord?”

He looked down at her in distaste. After a moment, he moved aside. “I meant what I said about silver and hawthorn oil. You can’t escape here. Even if you kill me.”

“Why would I kill you when you’ve been such a charming host?”

He caught the sarcasm in her voice. Good. “Did you really kill those people you told me about?”

She nodded as she walked to his mother’s side. “It’s the least we can do. Our little part to make the neighborhood safer.”

She could feel his disbelief. She moved to the small kitchen, where he’d set several of the herbs she’d mentioned on the counter. Some of them, she noted with a hint of revulsion, appeared to be store bought.

“It’s true, you know,” she said, as she got to work grinding herbs and heating water on the stove. “The people who seek us out are rarely at good points in their lives. They tend to hope we’ll kill them. We prefer not to – such things get messy. But it’s hard not to be protective of them after a while. They get better. They heal. They find some sort of purpose. Most of them eventually move on.”

“You turn them.”

“No. Not always. Most realize they don’t want death, but they also don’t want immortality.”

“Are those the only reasons you wouldn’t turn someone?”

She focused on the herbs, buying herself time. He wanted her to turn his mother still. He must. But she couldn’t. He had to understand that. “There are some that are beyond our help,” she said, her voice flat.

He watched her. She could feel his eyes on her. “How did you turn?”

Her hands worked automatically, accustomed to the motions even after all this time. She looked away as if peering through the fog of time. “My mother died. My father lost his fortune. He had intended to sell me to the highest bidder as a wife, but poverty was worse than he’d anticipated, and he decided an hourly price was preferable. A woman from the outskirts of town heard of my plight. She… intervened.”

“She turned you? Couldn’t she have just killed your father?”

Sharon smiled, but there was an edge to it. “Both, in fact. She developed a fondness for me. And I for her, of course.” She paused. “New vampires latch onto their sires. It’s the way of things. It helps us survive and learn our ways. I was her servant. Anything she wanted me to be, and happy to be so.” She studied the stove. She hadn’t seen one in ages, and this was quite a different one than the stoves she’d used before. “This will need wood.”

“Jesus.” He moved to her side – giving her a wide berth, she noticed – and turned a dial, then pressed a button. “There. It’s preheating.”

Technology. Ugh. “Get a metal tray and put these herbs on it. We need to dry them for the tea.”

He didn’t look thrilled, but he obeyed. “What happened after?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

Sharon shrugged. “She left. Vampires cannot cling to their sires forever. I had to prove myself on my own. But she still comes by every so often to visit.”

“And are you her servant then?

Did they have sex, he meant. She could hear the implication in his tone. “Don’t be so pedestrian.”

Minutes later, as she put the finishing touches on the tea, as well as slathered the paste on small pieces of bread, she said, “Thank you for your offer of blood. Silver and hawthorn-”

“Are lethal to you, if applied for extended periods of time.”

She drew herself up to her full height. “You really meant to kill me when you took me, didn’t you.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Did I hurt you in the past?” she asked, curious. “Or am I to answer for someone else’s crime’s?”

She saw from his eyes that she’d hit upon something there. Not that she thought it would do her any good. “Sit your mother up.”

Without another word, he did as she bid him. It truly was a shame he was so bent on killing her, she thought. He was pleasantly obedient otherwise.

She sat on the edge of the bed, a tray in her lap. The bread waited on a plate; the tea waited in its cup. “You should know. This will, in the end, make her die faster.”

His eyes flashed in anger, but his rage was kept at bay by his mother’s weight in his arms.

“It will ease her pain. It will help her speak. To think. She will be more like herself. But only briefly. This is not a cure for her, because she cannot be cured. This is only a way for you and her to say what must be said.”

The anger seeped out of him, leaving only wet eyes.

“I advise you,” Sharon said gently, “to spend the time wisely. The more energy she expends, the less time she’ll have. The more she’ll suffer later. Do you have anything to say to her? Anything you’d like to hear?”

He looked at his mother. His hand trembled; as soon as he noticed its movements, he stopped it with will alone. But he couldn’t stop the tears. He swallowed, then nodded.

Sharon nodded in response and leaned forward, coaxing his mother to drink a little tea, then eat a little bread. Back and forth, back and forth, until the woman’s eyes opened and she chewed with more spirit, drank with more surety.

“Hello,” the woman greeted her, her voice soft and uncertain.

“Hello.” Sharon stood and set the tray in the woman’s lap. For however long, the woman would be strong enough to feed herself. “I was just going.” She gave Steve a long look, but he spared her only a glance before turning to his mother and speaking quickly.

This was not a conversation for her to hear. Sharon saw herself down the ladder and back into her prison.

* * *

She woke in a car, covered by- was this the sheet his mother had died on?

She tugged it off and blinked around as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Woods, from what she could tell. A highway? One of those thin winding roads with no other signs of civilization.

“Your mother?”

“Gone.”

“And where are you taking me now?”

He didn’t answer.

“It isn’t customary to drive someone away from a scene to kill them later,” she offered. “Leaves an evidence trail. You understand.”

He remained silent.

She settled into her seat. It occurred to her she’d worn nothing but a sleep shirt for the past several nights. Looking down at herself, she noticed the chains were gone, replaced with thin rope.

“It’s coated in hawthorn,” he said without turning his eyes from the road. “I haven’t decided if I’ll let you go yet.”

“I thank you for the possibility.”

They rode in silence. Sharon looked at the dashboard in interest; she’d last been in the front seat before automatic windows were a thing. What else had the mortals dreamt up?

“The faction I’m with.” His words were halting, uncertain. Honest. “They found out what I did.”

“You were acting without their approval, then.”

“Yes.”

“And now they intend to kill both of us.”

“Yes.”

Sharon sighed, wishing mortals could leave vampire queens out of their squabbles. A thought occurred to her, and she squiggled in her chair to face him. “If we’re traveling, we’ll be around people, correct?”

“Yes, but I’ll take precautions. Just because you helped me doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“That’s all fine and well.” The words were too quick and dismissive to count as a lie. “But doesn’t that mean I get a change of clothes?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Steve is hunted by his former allies, he forms a wary truce, even partnership, with the vampire queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharon's dress for this one! [Ta-da!](https://i.postimg.cc/mDD5yZ93/9d4567a2390ef0edb1a45f58d818bf53.jpg)
> 
> And in case you haven't heard about it enough - we're voting on next year's Sharon Carter Month prompts [here!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1goHBjj2uGHsi5JVNTwyxcFecFHwsTkSPIbtbZKe7eQ0/edit)

Steve was in over his head. It had all seemed so simple before. Avenge his father, save his mother. Take advantage of every opportunity along the way.

So far, he wasn’t succeeding in any of it. The vampire queen was still alive, and not at all like he imagined. His mother, on the other hand, was dead. And instead of fighting toward his goal no matter what, he was fleeing from his former coworkers. With the vampire queen. Who, as she had pointed out, needed a change of clothes. He hadn’t thought of her clothes when he’d sneaked her out of her nest. He’d thought of how thin her shirt was, sure. And how cool her skin was. But it wasn’t like he’d intended to keep her in style. He’d just intended to get what he needed from her and then kill her. That would have taken out the rest of the nest in one fell swoop. Just like the Faction wanted. But the thought of helping his mother...

He had to make plans. Find some way to get his head on straight. Survive, if that was what he chose to do.

The vampire was watching him.

“What?”

“If you’re looking for backup, we should return to my sanctum.”

He supposed the vampires wouldn’t call it a nest. They were pretentious creatures. That dress she’d worn to greet him, the throne. All of it was pretentious. “So your vamps can tear me apart?”

“Don’t be so silly.” She lifted her bound wrists. “I’d never allow anyone else the pleasure.”

She almost sounded teasing. But vampires were manipulative. They’d say and do and sound and appear anything they needed to.

She dropped her wrists. “I don’t think you’re evil enough to kill.”

“Gosh, thanks.” The problem was that he thought the same about her. He was trying not to, but there it was.

“Torture, though.” The teasing voice was back.

He scowled at her.

“Turnabout isn’t such fair play when it turns about to you?”

“I preferred when you were unconscious.”

“Asleep,” she corrected.

“Could you have woken up before sunset?”

She watched him without answering. His feeling of petty victory was short-lived as she – deliberately, he knew – changed the subject. “They sent you to kill me, didn’t they?”

“Kill the queen, kill the spawn.”

She made a faintly displeased sound. “We are not spawn.” She frowned. “You got caught on purpose.”

“It was the fastest way to get to you.”

“And then you manhandled me in my sleep.”

“I transported you somewhere else,” he corrected.

“Hm. Glad to hear you didn’t attempt to molest me.”

He glared at her with disgust. “I would _never_ touch you. Not like that.”

“There it is again,” she said thoughtfully. At his quizzing glance, she said, “The utter hatred. A bit too strong for someone you’ve never met. And not merely bias. You’ve spoken similarly before. Will you give me an explanation?”

He glowered at the road ahead. He loathed her. He wouldn’t allow her a damn thing. Maybe pants. But nothing else.

And yet, it was just the two of them here. And he had a long night of driving ahead. He’d have to take a break at some point. Despite his work to put distance between him and Faction, he knew they’d track him down. They hunted their enemies without hesitation or remorse, and his failure made him an enemy. Was it possible that he’d be able to use the vampire queen to his advantage? Not as a bargaining chip, certainly. They only wanted her dead.

“They’re stronger than you are,” he mused aloud.

She scoffed.

“You have no idea how hard the Faction has trained. The chemical advancements they’ve made just to destroy you.”

“Me in particular?”

“You’re on their hit list. High on their hit list.”

“And you’re high in their hitters. You must be quite strong.”

“I broke the chains you kept me in. Could you have done that? Even without silver in them?”

She was quiet. Grim and thoughtful. Her wrists twisted almost absently against the rope around them.

“I’m at least as fast as you are. All of us are. We have gear to help us see in the dark. We have dogs trained to track your scent, days, even weeks, after you’ve left. We have books that predate vampire mythology, back when you walked unafraid and people gathered knowledge to try and stop you.”

Her quiet continued, stretching on as they passed mile after mile. “I’d like to test you physically. If you’d allow it. Without being bound.”

He shook his head. “I don’t trust you enough for that.”

“Of course not.” She turned quiet again. “Were you taught why we band together? To form our… our _nests,_ as you call them?”

“Safety in numbers.”

Her eyes danced as if he’d told a joke. He glanced at her, waiting for her to continue, and the dancing stopped. “You believe that.”

“What else would it be?” He must be more tired than he realized. He could hear it in his voice. But then, he had watched his mother die earlier in the day. And then had carted an undead woman around. And now he was being hunted by one of the most elite military forces in the world. He’d needed more than a nap.

“Did it ever occur to you,” she asked curiously, “that we gather our strength to keep something else from wreaking havoc?”

“You feed off people. You kill them.”

“This slaughters them and everyone else without distinction. We do not do that.”

He paused. “I don’t believe you.” But his tone lacked conviction; it was enough to invite her, however much he may hate it, to continue. It would be easier if he could hate her as much as he had before he’d met her.

“It’s called Hydra. It’s older than we are. Theories suggest we evolved in order to stop it. The old stories – and those not so old – of villages being wiped out in an evening with food still on the table, clothes still in the wash? Those are Hydra.”

“Cut off one head, two shall take its place? Like the Greek myth? That Hydra?”

“Essentially. It is… a creature, for lack of a better term, of the underworld. It is unknown if it is mindless or if it has a master.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Killing us all would prove me right in the end, though you wouldn’t have the pleasure of knowing me right for long.”

He needed sleep. He wouldn’t even be entertaining the notion that she was being honest with him if he didn’t need sleep.

He grumbled and pulled to the side of the road, taking out his phone and punching in different addresses and searches. She watched with undisguised interested. “You’ve seen a phone before, haven’t you?”

“Of course. I always liked the cords until they got tangled.”

He frowned at her. “Cell phones.”

“I’ve seen them,” she said with practiced calm. “They aren’t particularly popular with people as elderly as I.” She looked barely twenty-five, he thought ruefully. But her file _had_ stated she was at least five hundred years old.

He showed her the phone screen. “I need sleep.”

“Because you wouldn’t consider listening to me about Hydra otherwise,” she said with a knowing smile.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and pulled onto the road again. “How do you do that?” he grumbled.

“It’s how I became queen,” she admitted. “Reading people. Reading situations. Enticing people to do my will.”

“You’re not enticing me.”

She didn’t disagree; he tried not to let it worry him. “Of course,” she said after a moment, “you probably thought I’d be like a queen from one of your talking pictures.”

“Talking pic- _Movies?_ ”

She blinked. “Ah. Yes. Your movies.” She said the word as if it were a new toy. “I’m really much more of a bureaucrat. A president, if you will. I can be replaced. Voted out. I can even retire.”

“You’ve been vampire queen of your nest for three hundred years.”

“I wouldn’t even presume to boast until I had five hundred under my belt.” She paused. “We really should rejoin my people. If your compatriots are as much a danger as you say, you can hardly take them alone.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel; his knuckles turned white.

“Very well, she murmured. “For now.”

Steve frowned. She was trying to entice him. He would _not_ be enticed.

* * *

He surveyed the place before he let her out of the car. “Walk in front of me,” he directed.

“But then how will you open the door for me?” she asked sweetly.

“Like this. Move over there.” He pointed to the corner beside the door. When she was squarely there, making a bit of a show of her obedience as if it were a great joke to her, he picked the lock on the house and opened the door. “In.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she said dryly. She stopped just over the threshold. “Where to now, jailer?”

He shoved her forward so he could step inside as well, then looked over his shoulder. They hadn’t been tracked here, but it was only a matter of time. “You can’t protect us during the day. I need sleep before then.”

“I truly would like to gauge your strength,” she suggested. She held up her bound hands. “Surely there must be some other way for you to feel assured I won’t escape. My word, perhaps?”

He couldn’t hide his disgust. Her word was worth less than she was.

“You don’t believe me about Hydra. I don’t believe you about how weak I am.” There was a flash of pride in her eyes before she reconsidered. “During the night, at least.” She paused. “If my word is any good to you at all, I give it freely. It’s more comfortable to wear a promise than a rope or chain.”

He eyed her. Close enough for their breaths to mingle, the top of her head came to his nose. He drew a knife from his hip; if she felt threatened, she didn’t show it. He held the knife inches from her face. “When I beat you, you’ll do what I say, when I say it. You answer everything honestly. No jokes. No teasing. You try to escape, I hunt you down, inflict more pain than you can handle, and don’t give you any blood to heal.”

She considered. “Will you at least listen to my counsel? I _do_ have several centuries’ wisdom on you.”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“And when I beat you,” she said, holding her wrists to his knife, “you will return me to my people. You may either accept our protection or go your own way. I’ll even show you what we have of Hydra, so that you may make a fully-informed decision.”

He sheathed the knife. At the disappointment in her eyes, he shrugged. “I’m not going to waste perfectly good hawthorn rope.” He untied the knots and held his wrist before her mouth. “I wouldn’t want you at less than full strength for this,” he told her. No, he wanted her to know he’d beaten her when she was at her best.

She watched him for a moment, and then her lips brushed along his skin. He could feel her tongue next. He frowned at her, hoping she wasn’t trying to seduce him. Her eyes never left his. And then there was a dull pinch, just like he’d felt earlier. Still, she didn’t look away. Seconds later, and he felt her tongue again, and he pulled his hand away.

“Why do you have to lick it like that?” he demanded, studying it. It looked almost precisely as it had before; the only indication of an injury was fresh skin.

She was still licking her lips. “It promotes healing.” She tilted her head to the side so slightly it was almost like a suggestion of the move moreso than the move itself. “Your blood _does_ taste different than many others’.”

He wiped his wrist off on his pants and grunted.

“Shall we begin?” And then she was on top of him, trying to catch him off balance with her speed.

But he was as fast as she was and sucker-punched her in the midriff. One gasp from her, and then a foot snaked out and caught him in the side of his head. He told himself he was distracted by her lack of underwear and vowed not to let it happen again. He also made a note to get her clothes.

She pressed her advantage. The fight, he thought, was almost like a chess match, with her relentless speed matched by his own. She was using speed, though, not strength.

He caught her arm and twisted it behind her. She flipped over him and kneed him in the back. He fell forward with a grunt and had barely heard the beginnings of her laugh in his ear before he rolled over, pinning her to the ground. She pushed against him; he lifted himself on his heels and ground his shoulder into her chest. She kicked his heel, and he fought to keep his balance. She took advantage by flipping him, following along and sitting squarely on his chest. Her features were grim.

She didn’t have the mass to pin him down. He rolled again, pinning her to the floor once more, holding her wrists above her head, his hips between her legs so she couldn’t kick him away. It took a couple of thrashes on her part for him to realize why this current position was a mistake.

He doubted telling her to stop would make her comply. “Forfeit?” he asked instead.

She stilled, her features still grim but also thoughtful. “A mortal such as yourself should not have been able to do that. Any of it.”

“I told you.” He didn’t move an iota. His body was a traitor, and given that he’d rather himself not know that, he certainly didn’t want _her_ to know that. “We’re as much weapons as the tools we use.”

“I must call a tribunal.”

He frowned down at her.

“Would you-” She looked down between them. “Would you mind? We only have so much time before sunrise.”

“Right.” He quickly got off of her. “I’ll get my bags.” He gave her a look in the doorway.

“You bested me,” she said lightly. “I won’t run. My word may be nothing to you, but it is something to me.”

Outside, he doubled over and took deep breaths. The chill in the air was welcome, but it still took several minutes before he was up to returning to her presence.

“Before you rest,” she greeted him, “could I trouble you to make some calls on my behalf?”

He pulled out his phone. Seeing the time, he sighed and tossed it to her. He grudgingly had to admit, at least to himself, that he didn’t think she would kill him. “Make them yourself. I need to rest.” Digging through one of his bags, he tossed her a shirt. “In case you’re cold,” he explained. Yes, that was it. In case the vampire got cold. It had nothing to do with how high up her sleepshirt kept slipping or how thin the material was or how it draped over certain parts of his body.

She looked at him as if she understood what he was thinking. Instead of teasing him, though, she took his phone in her hands and studied it closely.

He kept an eye on her while he got ready for bed, trying not to grin at how she experimentally pressed the different buttons. “Wake me before the sun rises,” he instructed.

“Of course.”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“I accepted your terms before our fight,” she reminded him. “I must do what you say, when you say it.”

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe that at all. But maybe she’d had a point when she’d said that though her word meant nothing to him, it meant something to her.

* * *

She woke him shortly before dawn, ignoring his startled attack to shove his phone in his face. “You shouldn’t have games on your phone,” she admonished. “I’ve wasted far too much of the night learning them. I beat your score with the angry birds, by the way.” She sounded smug but also as if such a petty emotion were beneath her.

He blinked at her as the adrenaline faded, and she dropped his phone in his lap and moved to the bed beside him. His battery was nearly dead; he doubted she’d even noticed.

“Sunrise is in roughly ten minutes,” she told him. “I’ve written the night’s updates on the notepad beside your bag. If you will deign to take me to that place at that time, there is yet a chance we need not perish.” She cracked an eye open. “’We’ includes you, by the way, Steven.” The eye closed again, and he watched her, wishing he hadn’t given her one of his shirts. He didn’t like how she looked in it, curled up and- No. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away.

Though he knew he had no time to waste, he waited until the sun rose, then buried his head in his hands. This wasn’t how he’d expected things to play out. He shouldn’t be giving her his clothes. He should never have been between her legs. He’d let her feed from him twice now.

She hadn’t run. Did she have worse things in store for him? Or maybe this was the universe’s work.

A week ago, he would have distrusted every breath out of her body, whether sounds were attached or not. Now…

He shoved himself to his feet and read her notes. Sam and Bucky would meet them at an address in the city. They would remain there three hours in case Steven and Sharon joined them, then – whether she and Steven were with them or not – go to meet the tribunal to discuss this new threat. Steve would not be harmed so long as he drew no weapon on her or her kind.

He tossed the notepad down. Relying on vampires for help, promising not to hurt them… He really was in over his head.

* * *

The meeting place was a boutique. Steve sat on the street nearby, watching for anyone else who might be watching. The vampire slept as if dead to the world. For all intents and purposes, he supposed she was. 

The city darkened, and she stirred, blinking. He could see the moment she recognized their surroundings. “We’re early.”

He inclined his head. “Maybe we can get an early start. The Faction can’t be too far behind.”

“We’ll know soon.” Despite only wearing one of his spare shirts and her sleep shirt underneath, she hopped out of the car. “Coming?”

He pulled off his jacket and tossed it to her, not liking the way some pedestrians were looking at her. He grumbled and joined her on the sidewalk as she smiled at him, seemingly oblivious to his motivations – or perhaps because she understood his motivations more than he realized.

“If this keeps up, perhaps you’ll lend me your trousers, too.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Why a boutique?” he demanded. “Are there secret caves underneath?”

She grinned. “No. It would merely be political suicide were I to appear before the tribunal as I currently am.” The door opened before either of them reached it, and she was greeted with polite enthusiasm by the store’s staff. “I hope you don’t mind waiting,” she said, not looking apologetic at all about this inconvenience for him. “Sam and Bucky will be along shortly.”

She disappeared into the back. 

Within seconds, Sam and Bucky were let into the building. The three of them stared at each other, sizing each other up.

“We might as well sit,” Bucky said at last. “She’ll be in there for a while.”

* * *

By the time the vampire queen reappeared, Steve had actually held multiple conversations with Sam and Bucky. Enough to almost think of her as Sharon. It was clear they respected her and were loyal to her. She’d turned both of them, but each had chosen to return after some time away. Their ire against him eked away as he acknowledged her fighting skills, and returned when he asked if the Hydra were real.

“Of course it’s real,” Sam snapped.

“That’s why all of us are trained to fight,” Bucky explained. “And one of the main reasons only healthy people are turned. Each of us must fight them from time to time. There are few people who have kept Hydra at bay as long as Sharon has.”

“Talking about me?” Sharon glided out of the back, and Sam and Bucky jumped to their feet. Again, she wore a black dress. Her tight bodice was high-necked and sleeveless. The skirt beneath the belt plumed in a straight line, layers of silk and whatever material was underneath. She might, he thought, have chosen it to look regal and threatening. Having seen her sleep so deeply, having bested her in a fight, he thought she looked regal and too fragile for what was to come. She turned to survey the reflection of her hair, the curls pinned in place, and he saw the back had a gaping hole that revealed soft skin underneath. He really wished Sam and Bucky had killed him when they’d caught him. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Never,” Bucky said earnestly. He sighed as he saw the boxes being stacked on the counter. “Bought more than you need again?”

Sharon looked _almost_ suitably embarrassed. “In my defense, I was kidnapped without a change of clothes.” She looked away and found Steve. “Steven. Would you like to ride with us or on your own?”

“I need to get my vehicle out of sight.”

“You and I shall follow Sam and Bucky then. We are to go very much out of sight.”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other but didn’t argue.

* * *

“It’s called the Citadel,” Sharon explained as they drove into a parking garage. She directed him to go downwards, despite Sam and Bucky’s expensive town car already headed that way. “It’s more romantic than ‘the fort.’ Citizens are not typically allowed here. You are being allowed only because you have knowledge of our enemies. You will be asked to share your knowledge with people who will know if you are lying or hiding anything.”

“Will you be there?”

“I’m ancient enough to qualify on the tribunal, yes.”

They stopped near a pair of doors with guards on either side. Sharon’s door opened, and a guard helped her out. “I’ll see you below.” And then she was gone, and he was left to follow Sam and Bucky. The two pulled into a space a floor away, and Steve pulled in beside them.

“She doesn’t like walking in heels,” Bucky explained, getting out of their town car.

“And it looks better if she’s dropped off,” Sam added.

They walked back to the doors. The guards eyed Steve warily but let him pass. On the other side was a storage closet. Behind a petition in the wall, another door. This time to an elevator. The three stepped inside, and Sam hit one of five buttons, each unmarked. Steve didn’t need to note the lack of signage from the inspector and fire department to know this was no normal elevator.

“You tell anyone about this,” Bucky warned, “we’ll kill you and tell Sharon you disappeared.”

“I won’t tell,” Steve promised. He hoped he had as much faith in his word as Sharon seemed to have in hers.

They stepped off the elevator and were greeted by a woman in black leggings, black shirt, black vest, and black boots. She was more than a head shorter than he was, her hair flaming red, her eyes cold despite their spring green color. He detected several hidden weapons on her person and suspected she had many more. He might have bested Sharon in a fight; he wasn’t sure about this one.

“This is he?” she asked.

Sam and Bucky nodded.

The woman fixed her gaze on him. “You will never harm her again. Understand?”

“You’re her sire,” he said in understanding.

“Natalia.” She didn’t extend a hand in greeting. “Never again.”

He nodded, and she spun and led the way down a hall to a large set of wooden doors. Steve frowned, wanting to ask if they were underground. But of course, they must be. Natalia shoved him ungraciously past the doors, and he prepared himself to face the illustrious tribunal.

He caught his balance and straightened beside a chair, facing… ten ordinary office tables set in a semicircle, each with a perfectly ordinary office chair beside it. He couldn’t help but wonder if vampires shopped at Office Depot. Nine people sat at nine of the tables. Natalia scowled at him as she took her place at the tenth.

Sharon rose. “Please sit and share your story with us.”

He sat, feeling like a schoolboy summoned to the principal’s office. “Um. Where should I start?”

“Let’s begin,” she said carefully, “with your father.”

His eyes flicked to her in suspicion.

She smiled apologetically. “As protective as you were of your mother, it was clear you had no father. I suspect your rage toward our kind may explain why.”

He swallowed, thought, sighed. With a defeated nod, he began with the story of chasing after his father in the middle of one of his father’s alcoholic rages. Turning a corner and finding only a puddle of his father’s blood. That led to research, to training, to swearing never to lose someone he cared about ever again. That led to the Faction, the people who took everything to a new level. That led to the hope that he could use a vampire to save his mother. That led to betraying the Faction, and ultimately questioning what they had taught him.

When he was done, Natalia leaned forward. “Was it worth kidnapping her, mortal?”

Steve hesitated, then nodded.

“Even though your mother is dead?”

Steve’s lips closed tightly, and he nodded again. “Yes. I was able to say goodbye.” He didn’t look at Sharon while he spoke. He wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself, how much that time with his mother meant to him.

“A vampire didn’t kill your father,” one of the men said. He was grizzled, his skin a rich, warm brown beside the black void of his clothes and his eye patch. “We wouldn’t have left blood behind.”

“But the Faction could be yet another group framing us in order to recruit members,” Sharon mused.

There was a knock at the door. Sam entered with a note that he handed to Sharon.

She opened it and sighed. “The Faction followed our signs. They’re on their way.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vampires are attacked, and the Faction proves to be a more powerful enemy than any of them anticipated.

Steve jumped out of his chair. “You’re _leading_ them here?”

“Of course,” the man said. “From the sound of it, we can’t fight them on their own terms. We’ll either turn them into allies against Hydra or feed them to Hydra.” He grinned. “I’m betting on the latter.”

Natalia’s eyes shifted to Sharon. “You _do_ have too much faith in humanity.”

Sharon only smiled softly. “Have we any more questions for our witness?”

“Yes.” This time the speaker was a white man, bald on top. “Whose side will he fight on?”

Steve shifted uncomfortable. He could feel their eyes on him. He’d never in a million years thought he might align himself with vampires. But they weren’t what he’d thought they were. One of them wasn’t, at any rate. He dropped back into the chair.

“Hers,” he said grudgingly, throwing a hand out toward Sharon without looking at her.

The man made a thoughtful sound. “That’s the best we can hope for, I guess. I’ll go rally my forces.”

“I, mine,” chimed a chorus of other voices.

Soon, the room was empty save for him, Sharon, and Natalia. He watched as the two greeted one another, their hug longer and tighter than it ought to be for mere friends or even family. They murmured quietly, too quietly for him to hear, then parted.

Sharon approached him, and he hastened to his feet, immediately chastising himself for acting like one of her underlies. “They aren’t far away,” she said. “We expect them in five hours.” She turned to the door, and Steve suppressed the urge to open it for her. What was _happening_ to him? “Given your strength and speed, I’ll need you in the field, so to speak.”

“And you?” The door opened, and Bucky fell into step behind them. Steve didn’t ask where Sam was.

“We have something of a control room set up. I’ll be there, monitoring the situation and moving pieces as they need to be moved.”

“You promised to obey me.”

“I should have clarified – within reason.”

“But you didn’t. I want you to leave. Go away. Don’t tell anyone where.”

“That is beyond reason.” Her tone was stiff. With her hair piled in curls on her head and her back ramrod straight, she looked as much a queen as ever. Not that he’d been able to think of her as anything less than royal. She turned to him, her skirts whispering as she moved. “If this faction is as powerful as you say, we will have few chances to best them, and you’ve already shown me I have no chance on my own. I must remain and lend my skills. Our strength is in our numbers, remember?”

He remembered she’d thought he was joking when she’d said that. “At least tell me you’re not wearing that into a fight.”

She looked at him in exasperation. “No. I should hope you have more armor as well.”

“I have more armor.”

She looked to Bucky. “How many rooms have we been allotted?”

“Three.”

Sharon pursed her lips. “Very well. I’ll go to the control room. You take Steve to get what weapons he has and what armor. Show him to the control room after. I’ll take him to our rooms to prepare. After that, I’ll need you to join Sam.”

Bucky nodded. “This way,” he said, leading Steve down another hall.

“Are three rooms bad?”

“For today? No. We’ve got a lot of people here, though, and it means we’ll be tripping over each other. Most of us prefer our own space, so it means tempers might be a little high.” Bucky’s eyes slid toward him, slow enough to make sure Steve noticed. “Why’d you try to make her leave?”

“Are you kidding? They’d kill her.”

“ _You_ were going to kill her. What changed?”

Steve didn’t know, and he certainly didn’t want to think about it.

Bucky wasn’t one to give up easily. “Why did she promise to obey you?”

“She lost a bet. I beat her in a fight, so she has to obey me.”

Bucky looked disbelieving. “You couldn’t beat her in a fight.”

“And yet, I did.”

Bucky was thoughtful as they walked back to Steve’s car and got his luggage. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Steve followed him back into the elevator, then to the control room, where Sharon stood in the center of the room – still in her dress, he saw with frustration – while around her, other vampires worked at banks of camera monitors.

She looked up when they entered. “Carry on, please,” she told the vampires in the room. “I’ll go change for the fight. When I return, we’ll go in pairs to each prepare.” That done, she led the men into the hallway. Bucky inclined his head and walked quickly down the hall, and Sharon waved a hand in the opposite direction. “Our rooms weren’t be as comfortable this time, I’m afraid.”

“I was chained to a wall last time.”

“Exactly.”

After several twists and turns and climbs and drops through stone passageways, all with vampires in black moving past them this way and that, he asked, “How long as this been here?”

“A very, very long time. Our Indigenous brethren were here first, and they guarded it well. But they were forced to move west. We promised to hold this fort until they could return.”

“I don’t think they’ll return.”

The light in her eyes wasn’t as bright. “Hope costs us nothing so long as it isn’t lost,” she said shortly. She pushed open a thick wooden door, and the two of them stepped into chaos. It was ostensibly a bedroom, but there were at least thirty people inside. Everything fell to a hush when they realized Sharon was there.

She smiled brightly. “We hardly have time to waste. We’ll return to our usual ceremony after we’ve fought off the invaders. Please. Continue.”

The activity resumed. Sharon went to familiar packages on a table and began rooting through them. Steve stood there awkwardly. “There’s no private place to change,” Sharon said, “if that’s what you’re hoping for.” She unbuttoned the back of her skirt and let it pool at her feet. Balancing on one foot, she stepped into a pair of leggings one leg at a time.

He didn’t need the pale softness of her legs to remind him how little her skin saw sunlight. Not that vampires couldn’t, he thought as he remembered the Faction’s lessons, but because they were inactive while the sun was out, and sleeping in sunlight would leave them vulnerable to predators like themselves. He cleared his throat and pulled off his shirt, replacing it with a clean one before tugging a vest into place.

Within minutes, the pair of them were dressed. He was pleased to see she had more weapons tucked away than he’d thought, displeased to think of how little good they might do. He wore more armor, but it wouldn’t fit her. At least she’d forsaken her heels in favor of boots.

“Do you guys only wear black?”

“Only for battle.”

“You wore black when I met you.”

“It’s expected of those in charge of the court. It’s about the presentation. And humans and vampires alike enjoy a bit of spectacle.” She led the way from the room, but he stopped her, catching her wrist.

He noticed the volume and activity in the room had changed. With a glance, he realized all eyes were on him, and none of them were friendly. He quickly removed his hand. “Do you need more…” He held up a hand.

She shifted her weight. “Do I get to choose where it comes from?” she asked playfully.

“I’m _not_ doing that in front of everyone here.”

She stepped closer. “Not doing what?”

“ _That._ ”

Her hands were on his chest. She brushed her lips against his neck, and he realized how very wrong he’d had it. He exhaled and hoped it wasn’t in disappointment, but he couldn’t be sure. What was _wrong_ with him? Why were his arms already wrapped around her? How had they gotten there?

“May I?”

“Go ahead,” he whispered. He tried not to react to the feel of her tongue against his skin, but he couldn’t keep himself from holding her tighter against him. This was almost more intimate that what he had assumed they might do, and for a moment he allowed himself to picture it. And then quickly stopped and fought his body not to respond. Soon, too soon, she pulled away, licking her lips and looking thoughtful. He hastily forced his hands to his sides.

“You should go refresh yourself,” Sharon said softly. “With food from above. We have no kitchens here.”

He nodded dumbly and watched her walk away. Even with leggings and boots, she glided as if in a dress.

Sam whistled as he walked past. “Natalia might kill you,” he sang.

* * *

The Faction was early. Sharon sent the message with a calm voice, but she was skilled at hiding her displeasure. She’d known Steve was fast, knew the rest of the Faction likely would be, too. But this was faster than even her calculations.

“Pull back from the doors. Let them come to us.”

She knew the guards wanted to argue, but one of the benefits of her station was that no one would argue with her but her own offspring, her sire, or her equals. They were the only ones who had earned the right.

The Faction’s line of armored vehicles wound its way down the parking garage. She waited patiently as they opened the doors to the storage closet, then the elevator.

“They’re on their way to you now, Steven.” 

“You know,” he said over comms. “You can call me Steve.”

If she could still blush, she would have. Several pairs of eyes turned to look at her in the control room. She could only imagine what people were thinking elsewhere. Not that he was unattractive, by any means. “So noted.”

He paused. “Am I on _open_ comms?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of silence, then an awkward, “Right.”

She watched the feed. As expected, the men in the elevator noticed one of the cameras and broke it. They didn’t spot the others. From the speakers came their conversation, mostly about killing vamps. Dull.

She checked on Steven – Steve – and his team. At his insistence, he was with the team that would first meet the elevator. Also at his insistence, the team was armored up.

“Load up,” a man said over the speaker. “Hawthorn and silver.”

“Steve. You heard?” It had been difficult finding vampires who would follow Steve’s lead. He was clearly a mortal. She, having tasted his blood, knew there was more to him than that. In the end, Sam and Bucky had obliged her to join his team, telling her she owed them. They’d bullied some friends into joining them, with the understanding that Sharon owed them, as well. At the mention of hawthorn and silver, however, the vampires on the team didn’t seem inclined to argue with Steve’s lead.

“Yes.” He pointed his gun at the elevator doors; the vampires followed suit. “Let me know when they’re level.”

“Of course.” Steve had mentioned armor-piercing bullets. She had to admit, she’d thought it ridiculous at the time. The only reason Fury had approved was being they didn’t want to take any chances. And because as much as Fury tried to hide it, he thought armor-piercing bullets might be fun.

“Why are they even attacking now?” one of the vampires with Steve demanded. “It would be easier to kill us during the day.”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, “but not such impressive PR for them.”

A chilling thought. Sharon inhaled. “Level.”

Steve and his team fired before the doors could open. “Hit but alive. Prepare for return fire.”

The men in the elevator were taken by surprise but not for long. They were firing back as soon as the elevator doors began to open. They didn’t last long against armor-piercing bullets without the elevator doors to protect them. She exhaled in relief.

“No bodies in the elevator. Send it up and fall back. They won’t fall for that twice.”

“Copy,” Steve confirmed. 

“Natalia. You were correct. They’re rounding the corner now.”

“Copy.” On a monitor, Natalia and her team moved to intercept a van on the street above. The elevator was the only modern entrance to the Citadel, but there were others that were older, all hidden or stopped up but still, if found, penetrable. Natalia’s task was to keep their back entrances clear.

Sharon pursed her lips. They should have insisted that Natalia have more than one team. “Another scouting 8th. You’ve got time to deal with one, then the other.” But it would be close.

Natalia knew the inflections of Sharon’s voice better than anyone. She understood what wasn’t said. “Copy.”

In the elevator, four of the enemy noted the holes in the door. “Armor-piercing bullets?” one asked with a hint of nervousness. “Since when did vamps use those?”

“They don’t,” someone answered darkly. “Rogers turned traitor.”

Sharon tamped down on her anger. That was _her_ Rogers they were talking about. Not that he was hers. “After they notify their comrades of the fallen, scramble their signal.”

She frowned at the monitor for their cathedral entrance. With vampires supposedly unable to touch anything holy, Coulson had thought it hilarious to put an older entrance in a cathedral’s cemetery.

“Enemy at Cemetery gate,” she said, hiding her nervousness so well not even Natalia could have detected it.

“They must have inside information,” Fury said over comms.

“Steve didn’t know about those, so it wasn’t him,” Sharon murmured, watching. Damn it. “They’ve reached Coulson’s Crypt.”

“In fairness, perhaps I shouldn’t have named an entrance after myself,” Coulson admitted.

“All is forgiven if you stop them on the stairs,” Sharon said sweetly. “Morse. Redirect to 8th street entrance. Natalia’s run into a snag.” Her voice was calm. Anyone not watching the feed wouldn’t realize Natalia was having to fight much harder than anticipated. The Faction would have plenty of time to break into the 8th street entrance. “May. Elevators.”

“You’re sure? Rogers may be mortal, but he seems to be holding them.”

“The Faction is putting up more of a fight than anticipated,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as ever. “I want you to hold the elevator entrance. If you see an opportunity, remove them from play on all levels.” They may need the elevator as an escape route at this point.

“Understood.”

One of the vampires behind her called for her attention, and Sharon’s face twisted. “Be advised,” she said into the comm, her voice still clear and calm. “The Faction is drilling through a wall in Highgate Seven Blue.”

“Do we have a team near there?” Coulson asked. She couldn’t see the fight his team was in at her angle, but she could hear a series of hits and gunshots over the comm.

Her tone turned grim. “No, we do not. Fury. You might as well do it now.”

His only answer was a laugh as he opened the first of the gates that kept Hydra contained.

Sharon cut the comm and looked to one of the vampires in the room. “As a fallback measure, send a message to other covens. Inform them we are under attack and releasing our Hydra to route the enemy. Inform them of Factions’ inside knowledge and advanced weaponry. Tell them I request backup but urge extreme caution.”

Faction broke through the wall, its soldiers piling through unimpeded. She watched grimly and gave orders for multiple teams to intercept them, but she knew from studying and directing past battles before: This would be chaos, and only chaos and death would reign until one side or the other was wiped out.

* * *

Steve looked at May, his gun at the ready. “I take it this isn’t normal.”

May shook her head. “Sharon. Cut power to the elevator.”

“Copy.” It was odd to hear her voice transmitted over an ear bud. Steve didn’t want to think of how she’d handled his phone, almost as if it were an alien device. Still, she seemed competent enough with the Citadel’s security. Moments later she spoke again. “Elevator is approximately forty-five feet above you. Empty.”

“Copy.” May moved her gun to her back and opened the doors.

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked, mimicking her and checking the perimeter for Faction soldiers.

“We go up. We kill them. We make sure none are left alive. This is an evacuation point if we’re overtaken.”

Steve nodded. He hoped Sharon wasn’t the one who had to power up the elevators again, hoped she wouldn’t leave herself behind to make sure everyone else got out. Surely she wouldn’t. She was a vampire.

But he knew she would.

The only solution was to secure the elevator and move to secure more locations. He nodded to May. “Lead the way.”

* * *

“The Crypt is secure,” Coulson said, his breath steady. “They’ve got gadgets, sure, but they lack experience.”

“Deli secure,” Natalia joined in, sounding more out of breath than Coulson.

Something in Sharon’s chest unfurled. She couldn’t believe she’d been worried about them. “Help clear the elevator entrance. Then come down. We have our hands full.”

Someone snapped to get her attention, and she cut the comm before looking at their video feeds. Some of the Faction soldiers had sneaked past and were prowling in the hall. Sharon looked to the door, wondering how safe they were.

By the way the soldier crowded around the door and gestured to each other, not very.

She turned on the comm. “Be advised. Control room is going dark. Will respond when able.” Without waiting for a response, she turned off the comms and nodded to the others.

“Take cover,” she said softly. The words were barely out of her mouth before the door imploded inward.

* * *

Steve wanted to ask what that meant, but he was almost certain he knew. He glanced at May, at Sam, at Bucky, and it only confirmed his suspicions.

He climbed the ladder with more determination. He’d told her to leave, damn it.

Nearing the top, he saw a Faction soldier fall past him, hitting the top of the elevator with a lifeless thud. He hurried upwards, joining a fight between black-clad vampires and men wearing black armor and helmets. Natalia was there, and if she had any qualms about killing, it didn’t show. Steve didn’t have any such qualms, either, and he was pleased to see that few of the vampires did. He would have judged them for this a week ago; now, he thought he understood it.

When the last man was dispatched, May looked to Coulson and Natalia. “Elevator is still powered down. The control room is still dark.”

“Do we know who our traitor is?” Coulson looked at Steve. “Not you.”

“Maybe him,” Natalia murmured.

“Sharon wouldn’t have told him about the layout,” Sam argued.

“There might not _be_ a traitor,” Bucky argued.

That got them to stare at him.

“They’ve been building up around the Citadel for almost a century,” Bucky explained. “Sharon’s been working with other covens to reroute subways and subbasements around it.”

“So if someone looked at the building codes,” Natalia said slowly. “That sounds ridiculous.”

Steve shook his head. “It might not even be that hard to do. They’ve been hunting vampires, compiling dossiers on them. They must have watched Sharon for years before they gave me the file on her. How familiar are you with trackers on your vehicles? Your phones?” At the blank and uncertain looks, he frowned. “They’ve been tracking you, and you didn’t even realize. Once they realized they were being led to the Citadel, all they had to do was converge on multiple ways to get in. You showed them where to look. They figured out it was something big. Maybe looked at building codes or whatever. They already had a plan in place. We just forced their hand to execute it.”

“So we’re _all_ the traitors,” Coulson said dryly. “I don’t like that at all.”

Natalia’s fists clenched as she eyed the elevator shaft. “We need to get down there.”

Steve swooped down and headed her an earbud from a Faction soldier’s ear. It was more advanced than the vampires’. He got one for himself as the other vampires followed suit. Now they’d be able to follow what Fraction was planning. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Natalia hefted her gun. “We use the Crypt entrance. We take back the control room. Let’s go.”

* * *

She’d have stood a chance, Sharon thought ruefully as she dodged another blow, if there weren’t so many of them. Even as she kicked the man’s knee sideways and heard his screams, someone else kicked her from behind. It didn’t help that their explosive had contained something smelling painfully like hawthorn. Every inhale made her lungs ache.

Fortunately, she was mostly dead, so she didn’t actually need to breathe that much. But the younger vampires were having trouble with it. Try as they might, with hawthorn smoke in their eyes and lungs, they weren’t any match for these soldiers.

She fell forward with the kick and dropped before another man could catch her, rolling to the side and using the limited momentum to carry her a man who held a stake over one of her vampire’s heads. She popped up, grabbed the stake, and shoved it into the man’s neck.

She screamed, not realizing the source of the pain until she’d fallen to the ground. She could sense the metal on her tongue. Silver. Someone had stabbed her with a silver knife.

The blade turned in her back, and she couldn’t suppress the sound of pain, couldn’t keep her eyes from stinging.

“Rogers had orders to kill you.”

She gasped, inhaling the painful, blood-boiling hawthorn with each desperate breath.

Someone kicked her onto the floor. “Speak.”

She pressed her lips together. Don’t panic. Remain calm. Don’t let them see any more weakness than she’d shown already.

“Speak or we’ll kill all the little monsters in here.”

Damn it. She struggled to her knees. “Let’s take this outside, shall we?” She strained to keep her voice pleasant.

He cupped her chin, studying her. The hawthorn made her too dizzy to focus on him. He hauled her to her feet; the movement made her want to vomit. So did him pressing her to him to keep her upright. “You’re the queen. Tell us how to control the Hydra.”

She nodded. He wouldn’t believe a charming smile. He would believe weakness. “Firstly, they’re fond of devouring those who harm us.”

“I’ll try my luck.”

“Very well. We must find one, and I shall introduce you.”

She was going to die. She couldn’t fight off a Hydra like this. But then, neither could they.

* * *

It took too long for Steve’s liking to reach the control room. He kept up with the vampires as they sprinted there, which seemed to surprise them, but he was more concerned by how quickly Natalia stopped short in the doorway, then jumped away. “Hawthorn in the smoke,” she said, disgusted.

She looked to Steve, but he was already moving inside, carrying out the vampires inside to fresher air. He shook his head. No Sharon.

Natalia frowned.

Steve pressed a finger to the Faction comm. “This is Steve Rogers. Who’s in charge?”

“Hiya, Rogers.”

“Rumlow.” Steve’s voice was cold. Hearing Rumlow’s voice made him check his weaponry again. How had he gotten down to three armor-piercing bullets? Damn it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you betrayed us for a vamp. She’s got nice tits, sure, but we were making a man out of you, Steve. You threw that away.”

“You didn’t tell me about the Hydra.”

“That was need to know. And you didn’t need to know.”

“You can’t control Hydra, Rumlow. Not even the vamps can, and they’ve had centuries of trying.”

“Don’t write us off, Stevie Boy. Your girlfriend’s going to help us.” Steve could hear the smile in Rumlow’s voice. “Then we’re going to take over the world and make it what it should have been all along.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes against everything he believes in order to save his enemy, but will it cost him his life?

The comm went dead, and Steve looked at Natalia. “Where would they go?”

“May. Coulson. Get the power back on. Steve’s team, follow me.” As she ran, she used the vamp comm to explain the situation to Fury.

“I’ve still got a gate left,” Fury admitted. “They’re feisty in there. Concerned what’ll happen when we let them loose.”

“Don’t. We may have to barter for Sharon.”

“You know we can’t do that.”

Natalia turned off the comm and pretended she hadn’t heard.

They caught up to Fury without seeing Sharon, Rumlow, or any Faction soldiers who weren’t disposed of quickly enough.

“She’s leading them on a circuitous route,” Natalia said, frowning. “Or maybe leading them elsewhere entirely.” She looked at the gate. Steve could hear shrieks and thudding noises coming from the other side. “Close it up. We’ve carried enough of the day we don’t need to chase down the Hydra on top of everything else.” She surveyed the teams, her mind elsewhere. “We’ll have to split up. No matter what you come up to, split up evenly. You get eyes on Sharon, you call it in and you wait until reinforcements arrive. Understood?”

They nodded. Steve was already halfway down the corridor when he heard Fury drawl, “You are not a general.”

“Shut up, Nicholas.” And then he was too far away to hear more of Natalia’s reply.

* * *

The poor idiots didn’t know what an utter and conniving bitch she could be. She knew exactly where Fury was. And she’d led them far, far from the gates that kept the Hydra contained. Even if she wanted to cry from the silver in her blood and the hawthorn messing with her mind, she would _never_ give them the Hydra.

The one Steve had called Rumlow over the comm was getting suspicious, though. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

“Hawthorn makes it impossible for our kind to lie,” she lied. That allowed her time to lead them three more passageways off track before he threw her to the ground.

“You’re lying!” He kicked her, and the silver and hawthorn had made her weak enough that she couldn’t catch her balance before she fell.

“I’ve always been very bad at directions,” she said dimly, trying to sound apologetic. She didn’t try to get up. Maybe she hoped she was buying time. Maybe she was playing on their weakness. Maybe she was just in so much pain that she wasn’t sure she could get up again.

He crouched beside her and opened a small case, too large for snuff, and pulled out a syringe. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“Your revenge for not getting your way?”

He smiled coldly, then nodded to the others. There were only four of them, she thought angrily. If they hadn’t been such cheats, she’d have bested them easily. Two of them moved forward and yanked her off her feet. Her head lolled. She thought she tried to hit them, but she was so weak that she wasn’t sure.

Rumlow moved closer. “It’s high-content hawthorn oil. It will kill you. Painfully. Now. Where is the Hydra?”

She looked at the syringe; the oil was a deep amber color. She smiled at Rumlow. And then, just as Steve had done with her that first night, she spat at him.

Nothing came out, of course. Her mouth was dry. But the gesture alone seemed to do the trick. Rumlow struck her hard across the face; without being held up, she would have fallen.

“I will _never_ help you,” she ground out. “ _That_ is the truth. You’re stupid enough to release the Hydra. I am not stupid enough to allow it.”

He hit her again, then toyed with the syringe.

Something caught his eye, and he smiled. Sharon tried to focus on his face, tried to keep her thoughts in order. A smile was a bad thing.

“We’ll get use of you yet,” he said, and plunged the syringe into her neck.

The only thing she remembered after that was screaming.

* * *

Steve recognized Sharon’s voice first. It had a soft, carrying quality to it, no doubt cultivated over hundreds of years. But he couldn’t _do_ anything about it. He was alone, and he knew he was no match for Rumlow and – upon peeking around the corner – five others.

He took a breath to calm himself and reported his location over the comm. Multiple voices answered, but he was busy focusing on Sharon and Rumlow’s conversation.

Don’t taunt him, he wanted to tell her. Rumlow took such things personally.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say Sharon was _trying_ to get herself killed. Sure, he’d planned to kill her himself, but he hadn’t changed his mind just for her to get herself killed.

Rumlow struck her, and Steve nearly stepped out to shoot him. He reminded himself he only had three bullets, five assailants, and one hostage. He couldn’t risk it.

He reconsidered on the second hit enough to catch himself just as he leaned into the hall. He hastily pulled himself back and forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed to control himself, damn it.

And then he heard a scream, the sort of scream that spoke of boundless, endless pain. The voice was foreign, and yet he could pick up the familiar quality underneath. _Sharon._

Screw this. He dropped into a crouch and swung into the hall behind his gun. He caught Rumlow in the shoulder with a bullet. One man holding Sharon in the head.

Rumlow returned fire; Steve instinctively ducked back for cover. Sharon had choked on her own breath, her coughs coming out in moans and weak cries. The sounds sent shivers down Steve’s back.

One bullet left.

“Distract him,” Natalia instructed.

Steve wheeled out into the hallway again. Rumlow aimed, and then his head jerked to the side as Natalia broke his neck. He fell.

Steve shot the soldier closest to Natalia; Sam took out the one behind, and then Steve was running to Sharon’s side. The syringe was still in her neck, and he pulled it out and tossed it aside; the vampires in the way quickly cleared space for it.

Sharon shook so violently she was almost convulsing, her eyes unseeing, guttural sounds of pain emanating wordlessly from her lips.

He didn’t waste any more time. He pulled out his knife, slit his wrist, and pressed it to her mouth. “Drink.”

She didn’t hear, didn’t move her lips, only continued to moan.

He rocked her back and forth. “ _Drink,_ Sharon.” She had to drink. She had to. She needed the blood.

“She’s dying,” Natalia said. Her voice was deep, mournful, and knowing.

“ _No._ Blood heals vampires. This can heal her.”

“Not if she can’t drink it. And she’ll need more than that.” Natalia gave him a meaningful look. “Much more. They injected her with hawthorn. She’d need almost a full human’s worth of blood.”

He glared at her. “Not like I’m living for anything right now.”

Sharon’s moans were quieting, becoming little more than weak, rasping sounds.

That was all it took. Natalia wasn’t fond of him anyway, he thought wryly. She’d sacrifice him to save Sharon in a human heartbeat. Natalia turned to Sam. “You were a medic.”

“Yeah, and the Revolutionary War was known for its medical survival rates.” Nonetheless, he was already scooping Sharon in his arms and snapping out orders. Steve followed, feeling like he was in a fog. The only thing that registered, however briefly, was Bucky taking his wrist and licking the wound.

“You don’t have blood to spare right now,” Bucky pointed out. After a second, he licked his lips and turned thoughtful.

Steve followed them to a room where medical items had been set beside a blanket. “This is it?” he demanded.

“You want the Ritz?” Sam snapped, settling Sharon gently on the blanket. She wasn’t moaning anymore, just making rasping sounds as she trembled. “Then go stay at the Ritz. Or do what I tell you.” Steve went quiet, and Sam pointed to the blanket beside Sharon. “Lie down.”

“Daylight’s coming,” Natalia urged.

“I know, I know.” Sam hastily scrubbed part of Sharon’s arm, then Steve’s. Steve turned his attention to Sharon, smoothing her sweat-matted hair away from her face with his free hand. She made a sound that might have been a whimper if her voice were strong enough. It might have been nothing more than a choked breath. “Steve. This’ll take a while. You’re going to get tired. Dizzy. You might black out. I don’t know how long it’ll take – I don’t think this has been done before. Don’t know if her body’ll take the blood fast or slow.” Steve felt the needle in his arm and looked to Sam. “Try to last until I can wake up and take care of you.” He sat back, and the group watched Steve’s blood move from his side of the narrow tube to Sharon’s.

He watched Sharon, waiting for a change. At one point, her eyes drifted closed, but her trembling continued. When he looked to Sam to ask if it was working, he found Sam and the others had all fallen asleep. It was a bit like dying among the dead, he thought emptily. He could only hope they’d killed all the Faction soldiers.

His stomach started to growl around the time she stopped shaking. Her breathing had evened out, but waking her up was to no avail. Why was he even doing this? He’d been intent on killing them, on killing _her_ for so long… Why was he saving her instead, maybe giving up his own life to do so?

Not much of a maybe about it at this point, was there.

He watched her as she slept. She was still pallid, more so than usual, but the eyes would soon open. The lips would soon smile. She would tease and question and answer and be a queen, she would direct people in battle with a calmness wearied generals would envy. She would wear a too-thin, too-short shirt to wear to sleep in a bed that smelled faintly of orange blossoms. Maybe, just maybe, she’d help someone else realize that saying goodbye to a mother was better than forcing a mother to live.

There were worse people to die for. 

He drifted off to sleep, woke up with a start, checked on her, noted his dizziness, and fell asleep again.

* * *

Sharon woke feeling like divine. She was chock full of healthy blood; she knew that without even opening her eyes. Within seconds of waking, Sam was at her side, pinching her arm and helping her sit up and asking questions.

She just smiled. She’d had the worst nightmare the evening before, and she was just glad it wasn’t real.

She was on a blanket in a strange room; Sam and Bucky both hovered over her. Beside her, Steve lay motionless.

She froze. “It wasn’t a nightmare, was it.”

Natalia pushed her way past Sam and Bucky and pressed her forehead to Sharon’s. “It was very real,” she said, inhaling and exhaling deeply, breathing in Sharon’s scenet. “And I am very glad you are returned.” She kissed Sharon’s forehead.

“Thank you.” Sharon smiled up at her. This wasn’t the time or place to show her appreciation to her sire appropriately, however. “Our people?”

“I’ll find out for you.”

Sharon moved closer to Steve. He was alive, but weakened. She turned to Sam. “I would like your assistance in looking after him.”

“You could turn him,” Bucky suggested.

“I could,” Sharon agreed, “but he won’t respond kindly to us if it’s forced upon him.”

Sam grumbled. “Sharon. Your taste gets worse with every person you turn.”

Bucky gave him a good-natured kick.

* * *

Sharon accompanied Steve to a hospital where some of the employees were friendly to their kind. Not friendly enough to give them blood, but friendly enough to help when things went awry. Or perhaps they helped because it was merely their job to help those who sought their help.

“You need to say why you’re doing this,” Bucky told her from the front seat “There will be whispers you’ve fallen for a mortal.”

“I haven’t fallen for him,” Sharon said, far too defensively. She sighed. Steve lay, nearly lifeless, with her in the backseat, and it was all she could do not to run her fingers through his hair. “Fine. I- I don’t know. He’s good, and he’s strong, and he was willing to give his life for mine. Do I not owe him my kindness and hospitality?”

“Is that what they called it in ye olde ancient times?” Sam asked.

She made a face at the rearview mirror. “Do you think they hate the idea of myself and Steve enough to replace me?”

Bucky glanced at Sam before answering. “If they have a good enough alternative, yes.”

Sharon considered. “They want the court favorite to be one of them.”

“Yes.”

She smiled sadly. “But there’s the rub. They’ll never be satisfied with me choosing anyone, or not choosing anyone. If I must, I can give up being queen.”

“No, you can’t,” he told her soberly. “There’s no other person here who wouldn’t run the coven into the ground within a decade.”

Sam snorted. “More than the coven. Sorry, Sharon. But you have to be queen. And that means making all the sacrifices that go with it.”

She sighed. “I almost like that you’re so honest with me.”

“But not this time?” Bucky said with a grin.

She smiled at him. “At least I appreciate it.”

He grinned. Minutes later, he opened the door to carry Steve inside.

* * *

She stayed with him through the blood transfusion. Sam and Bucky’s eyes had been to rapt on the red liquid in the tube, and she sent them to set up her new court and feed. They’d have to get everything back to normal as quickly as they could before they lost their prestige and powerful, visiting vampires left for someone else’s court.

It took hours for Steve’s eyelids to flutter open, minutes more to successfully ask for water.

She nursed him as best she could. Despite her efforts with his mother, she didn’t tend to take care of mortals anymore. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He shrugged but squeezed her hand. His hands were almost as warm as they had been before.

She sat quietly until the nurse came back to check on him.

“He’s all good,” Claire said. “He’ll have to take it easy, eat healthy, drink plenty of fluids.”

Sharon nodded and got to her feet. “Thank you, Claire.”

“Sure. I’ll get him a wheelchair. Liability issues. And then I’ll get you checked out.”

The interval was tedious. It didn’t help that neither she nor Steve spoke while they waited. Nothing Sharon thought to say seemed satisfactory.

All she managed was, “Would you like me to deliver you to your home, or would you like to return to mine so that I- we can look after you until you’re recovered.”

He watched her in a way that made her distinctly nervous. “Yours.”

* * *

She helped Steve to her room and excused herself to see to her duties. She wished she’d thought to bring more clothes for him; it wasn’t as if he could wear hers. But there were more important things to tend to.

She put her appearance in before her small court, announced the parties they would be throwing each night to celebrate their victory, and stayed longer than she wanted to until she was convinced of everyone’s loyalty. By the time she was done, there was precious little time left before dawn.

When she returned to her room, he was under the covers. And he was obviously, as near as she could tell, naked.

“Bucky offered to clean my clothes.”

“That was nice of him,” she said, thinking of when Bucky had made Sam that same offer, and Sam had never seen his clothes again.

“I hope you don’t mind my staying here for the night.”

“Not at all.” She sat at the vanity and began undoing her hair. She needed a bath, but there wasn’t enough time for the soaking she wanted. She watched him in the mirror. “You could stay longer, if you wish. You saved my life, after all.”

He frowned and looked away. “You… you allowed me to have time with my mother I never would have had otherwise.”

“Ah. So we’re even.” Why did that make her heart ache? It had better not be- No. She’d felt that so few times, and then it had been faster, surer. Passionate. This was… different. 

He turned to watch her reflection. He nearly spoke several times, then cleared his throat. “Do vampires date?”

Her eyes danced. “Like mortals? No. No, I can’t say that we do. We also don’t date mortals.” She twisted in her seat to look at him directly. “Loving a mortal is a dangerous business,” she explained. “They die quickly. Easily. They’re a target for our enemies. Were I to date you as you are now,” especially without any clothes, “those who wish me ill would see you as the easiest way to cause me pain.”

“I wouldn’t want to cause you pain.” There was an honesty there, a sincerity, that made her breath catch.

Belatedly, she resumed brushing her hair. “It’s regrettable.” She hesitated. “Steve…” He didn’t like it when she was manipulative or charming, and she couldn’t always help being either one. After so much time playing politics and surviving and leading her court, it was second nature to her. She set her brush aside. “There are two options for when you’ve recovered. You can either remain human and align yourself with my court, or you can allow me to turn you and join my court in full.”

“Or I could leave and disappear forever.”

“If that is your wish.” She turned away. She had been quite deliberate in leaving that option out, but he’d thought of it on his own. All in all, inviting him to stay had gone worse than she’d thought.

He struggled to sit on the edge of the bed, hesitated, then walked naked behind her. “Just pointing out that I know my options.” His tone was light. She tried, out of politeness, to keep her gaze on his face. “I lived for vengeance and the hope I could save my mother. That life… it’s gone. I don’t have anything anymore.” He unbuttoned the back of her top, his warm fingers lingering on the exposed skin. His voice turned quiet, almost shy. “I know I want you in it.”

She turned to face him. It wouldn’t do to have a conversation so close to _that_ part of his anatomy, though. She didn’t want him to think she was leading him on. “You-”

“I accept your terms. But tomorrow night.”

She tilted her head in silent query, and he took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. “This is my last chance to watch you sleep.”

* * *

He didn’t watch her sleep for long; he was too tired, too worn down. He hadn’t realized how much until he woke up to find her shifting sleepily in his arms. She was naked, still cool to the touch, with a beauty that was ethereal and eternal.

With a gentle tug, he urged her on top of him. He delayed his words, taking a moment to appreciate the smooth skin of her breasts, of her stomach. This, he surmised, wasn’t a performance. He’d seen her perform often enough to tell that she wasn’t preening for him, only watching him in turn. “How?”

“An exchange of blood. It will hurt. Your insides will change. I will stay with you through it all.”

“You’d better,” he told her. “Because I can’t imagine not staying with you.”

She smiled, a sweet, pure smile, and leaned over to kiss him. Her bare breasts touched his chest, and this time, he didn’t bother hiding his body’s response.

“Do it,” he whispered, turning his face.

“There are pleasanter ways,” she murmured. She kissed him again, and his arms went tight around her, his hands exploring. It felt right, he thought. Something pierced his tongue, and he tasted the rich copper of blood, and then something so similar but somehow different. He swallowed, the spasm of his throat automatic. She brushed his hair with her fingers, stroked his beard, and kept kissing him. There was more blood in his mouth, or hers; no, both.

His hand moved between her legs, and she broke the kiss with a gasp. He followed, licking the blood from her lips. He’d thought it would taste disgusting, but it wasn’t so bad now that he was getting accustomed to it. His fingers continued to move, tracing and exploring. “I never asked if you could do this,” he asked foggily. “Do you have- I don’t- Should I get something?”

She shook her head. “You’re doing wonderfully.” And she sank onto him, enveloping him, and his head fell back with a groan. She kissed the vein of his neck, and he held her there with a hand as his hips moved, rocking her.

“Do it,” he whispered again. “You promised to obey.”

She sighed against his skin. It sounded like a happy sigh. “Within reason,” she corrected. “And for the record, when I am your queen and we are in front of others-”

“I’ll obey you wholeheartedly,” he promised.

Her head lifted, and she watched him with soul-piercing eyes. He could feel a heat within him that had nothing to do with her on top of him. Partly to distract her, he widened his legs, thus widening hers, and roved one of his hands down her back.

She closed her eyes, her breath turning ragged, and turned her attentions to his neck. A pinch, a span of a minute or two, and then she stretched upward, her hair spilling out behind her. She watched him as he managed another thrust, his heels assaulting her mattress to get the force, and he looked up at her. He felt a burning stab in his side and ignored it, keeping all his focus on her as she drew a sharp fang across her wrist.

He didn’t need to be told. He grabbed it and pressed it to his lips. He didn’t need to think about it. He wanted her blood inside him.

A pain nearly sent him doubling over. Instead, he used the energy to flip them over, plunging into her like an animal, her breath hitching as he sucked and licked at her wrist. Far from sated in more ways than one, he dropped her hand and loomed over her, thrusting with force enough to rock the bed. “More,” he whispered.

She nodded weakly and tore a line down her other wrist. That didn’t satisfy him, either. His thrusts were erratic, the heat within him burning to get out.

“More,” he growled, strangely proud of the quiet gasps and moans he was eliciting from her. He kissed her and bit her tongue, sucking at the wound.

He pulled away, and she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his face to her throat. “Just this once more,” she whispered, and he bit down. It wasn’t difficult at all, a simple bite, and blood poured into his mouth. She breathed a strangle cry, stiffening around him and then going limp. He kept lapping at her neck, sucking like a man dying of thirst.

A final thrust, and the heat spilled out, washing out of him like a wave, leaving him feeling odd and new and vigorous.

He panted and kissed her again, this time gently. “Am I-”

She nodded. “That went better than I thought it would,” she admitted. “But then, I suspect, with the changes made to your blood, that you may be a different vampire than what we’re used to.”

Steve grinned. “You mean I’d still be able to best you in a fight.”

She grinned back. “Don’t become full of yourself. I am still your queen.”

He leaned in to kiss her. Her lips, her cheek, her nose. “And in your court, I will be your most obedient servant.”

“And out of my court,” she agreed slyly, “I shall be yours.”

“My what?” he pressed.

Her eyes danced. “Your most obedient servant.”

“Within reason,” he finished.

She smiled up at him.

“My first official order-”

She made a sound suspiciously like a snort, and he ran a finger along her jaw.

“Is that we do that again,” Steve finished, rolling over so she was back on top.

She leaned over and gave him a torturously slow kiss. His toes curled as he looked forward to more. “Of course.”


End file.
